


Little Death

by OpheliaGlorfindal



Series: In The Eye of The Hurricane [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Consensual Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Flashbacks, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hand Jobs, Mental Health Issues, Porn, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Dragon Age II Quest - A Bitter Pill, Romance, Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-27 03:41:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19782520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OpheliaGlorfindal/pseuds/OpheliaGlorfindal
Summary: “Fenris, its OK,” she whispered,reaching out to take his hands, “I won’t hurt you.”He blinked and met her gaze, seeing the quiet conviction in her eyes. He was at a loss of what to say. He was used to people staring at him, some with fear and disgust, others with a morbid curiosity. But Hawke was different, her gaze was accepting.“How many times do I have to tell you?” she told him with a smile, “You are more than your scars.”He kissed her then, hungry and impatient. Despite his misgivings, despite all the hours he’d wasted agonizing over her, this was what he needed. She was everything he wanted and he had been waiting for so long. She was his constant, she filled up his empty, desolate life with laughter and most dangerous of all, hope. She was the reason he had stayed in Kirkwall for so long, she was the reason he felt like he could have a future.And that was terrifying.My version of *that* scene that takes place after A Bitter Pill in Dragon Age 2. Brace yourselves: The angst is coming.





	Little Death

**Author's Note:**

> Please sleep, my darling, sleep  
> The cry for inspiration never reaches ears on distant stars  
> And every night our lonely planet slides across the universe  
> And I won't pretend I understand...
> 
> Please sleep, my darling, sleep  
> Your death by information won't disturb the peace on distant stars  
> And even when you lock the door and slide behind the unlit shades  
> None of us are strangers anymore
> 
> So fall asleep with the windows open  
> Come to me with the worst you've said and done  
> You'll close your eyes and see me  
> (Little death makes life more meaningful)  
> I stand no chance at all
> 
> **Little Death** \- +44

_“What has magic touched that it hasn’t spoiled?”_

The words had been reverberating around Fenris’ head all afternoon as he paced the length of his study. They were words that he had said in the heat of the moment. Words that he never meant.

Fenris pinched the top of his nose as he remembered the way Hawke had looked at him as though he had just run her through with a sword; her blue eyes wide with shock and pain. He had regretted it instantly — after all, she had been undeserving of his anger and he had insulted something that was so intrinsically a part of her. Remorse had dampened his anger, before spiralling into the guilt that he was currently stewing in.

Fasta vass, he was such a fool. 

Hawke was his...friend. No, she was more than that. She was the first person who accepted him; who saw past his cursed markings to the man beneath. She helped him without expecting anything in return. Sure, they argued frequently and there were things they would never agree on, but as much as she could infuriate him, she could make him laugh. She was a mage and he trusted her. She was a mage and he could never detest her even if he tried.

Not that it mattered now. He had ruined everything with his temper. Usually his anger was what powered him through every battle, usually it was justified by every blood mage and slaver he killed. But this time, this time his anger got the better of him, this time it hurt someone he — 

Why was everything about Hawke so complicated? Despite his inherent aversion to mages, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. She had infected him with her unwavering hope and her glibness. She was magnetic, pulling him closer and closer to her and try as he might, he could not resist.

Fenris sighed. Although he could spend the rest of the day untangling his feelings for Hawke, he needed to apologise. He had been a brute, lashing out at her when she was just trying to help him. It might not repair the damage, but it needed to be done and at the very least he needed to explain things.

He heaved his shoulders and strode out of his mansion, savouring the cool evening air caressing his face. The short walk across the street to Hawke’s estate felt endless. His mind was too busy planning out what he was going to say to her to really notice the goings on around him. He knocked on her door, his stomach churning a little as he waited.

His stomach dropped as Bodhan answered the door.

“Messere Fenris,” the dwarf greeted him in his usual cheerful manner, “Here for your reading lessons? Messere Hawke is currently bathing.”

“I shall call another time then,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Are you sure?,” Bodhan replied, “You’re more than welcome to wait in the library for her. She won’t be long, I’m sure.”

A vivid image of a naked Hawke sitting in the bath, water droplets glistening on her skin entered his mind. He forced the image away. Tantalising as it was, he needed to focus.

“In that case I will wait,” he replied, after hovering in a moment of indecision. 

“I shall tell her that you are here.”

Fenris stepped inside and watched as the dwarf scurried off. The fact that she had not told her servants to turn him away was a promising sign. He sat down on the bench in the foyer, trying to calm his emotions down. Trying to stop playing the events that transpired that day over and over in his mind.

“Fenris,” Hawke’s voice cut through his thoughts, “I wasn’t expecting to see you.”

Fenris stood up and stared at her, trying not to notice the way her skin was still pink from her hot bath or that her auburn hair was still slightly damp at the ends. Her blue eyes were wide as she looked at him in apprehension.

“I came here to apologise,” he told her, "What I said this morning — it isn’t — it is not — I took my anger out on you and I shouldn’t have.”

Hawke bit her lip, her fingers fidgeting with the cuff of her robe. 

“It’s all right,” she replied, the corners of her mouth twitching into a wan smile, “I know it wasn’t a walk in the park for you. I was concerned, where did you go? You just left us.”

Fenris ran a hand through his hair, this was not the reason why he had come. He had apologised, but somehow it wasn’t enough. She needed context, an explanation for his behaviour earlier. He pinched his nose in frustration. He hadn’t told her much about his time as Danarius’ slave; there were some aspects of it they’d touched upon of course, but this — this was different. This was something he hadn’t told anyone, a part of his time with Danarius that he had locked away somewhere in the back of his brain and tried to forget.

“Fenris?” Hawke’s voice was tentative, “What is it?”

He heaved his shoulders and looked up at her, concern etched into her face. She made as though she was going to touch his arm, but drew her hand away. There was something, an openness about her that led him to believe that he could trust her. That he could tell her anything without her passing judgement on him.

“You must understand, I didn’t want to kill Hadriana,” he told her, “I wanted to break the cycle, but I couldn’t.”

She must think he was an animal, unable to control his emotions, unable to even control his own body. It had felt as though he had been consumed by his feelings; as though he was no longer a man and that his body was just a vessel for his anger and his hate.

“What do you mean?” she asked him, her expression impassive.

Fenris sighed. Just thinking about what had happened with Hadriana was starting to make him angry. Another thing that infected him with disgust and vitriol.

“When I was a slave, Hadriana was a torment,” he told her, his jaw clenching, “She would starve me, deprive me of sleep,” he felt his cheeks heat up, “She humiliated me — to discover that she knew more about my past than I did —”

“I understand,” Hawke replied.

Another jolt of anger spiked through Fenris’ veins, it spread through his body like a fast acting poison. This was — this was all too much.

“How could you possibly understand?” he snapped, “You have a history, a past. You have never been treated like — like an object. No one has ever taken everything you are away from you; your past, your memories.”

Hawke took a step back and crossed her arms, biting her lip.

“I-I’m sorry,” she said, her voice soft, “I didn’t mean — I was trying to say —”

Fenris clenched his fists and took a deep breath. He was making it worse. He should not have come to her. He should have waited until his head wasn’t filled with anger and resentment. 

“I’m sorry,” he told her, his expression softening, “I don’t know why I’m angry at you. I should go.”

As he turned to leave, Hawke reached out and grabbed the top of his arm. He spun around, his ears roaring. He felt his lyrium markings flare as he stalked towards her. In a second, he had pushed her against the wall. A gasp escaped her throat. How could she — how dare she —

He froze. What was he doing? Why was he standing so close to her? His eyes widened in horror. This was wrong. He stared at her for a loaded second. Before he could run away, she closed the gap and kissed him. 

Without thinking, he yielded to the soft pressure of her lips and slipped an arm around her waist. The warmth of her body pressed flush against his reminded him that this wasn’t a dream; a sordid little fantasy that was playing out in his head. He felt her fingers tangle in his hair, her nails scraping his scalp. He grunted as she pulled him off balance and shoved him into the wall.

“Hawke? What are you —”

She was staring at him, her lips were swollen and her eyes had darkened. He could see the need, the want in them and he felt a surge of lust lance through his belly. It was him, he was the person that she wanted. He was the cause of her current dishevelled state, of her heavy breathing. Without another thought, he kissed her again but harder this time. He wedged his knee between her legs, feeling her squirm against the planes of his thigh as he held her fast against him.

He slipped a hand inside her robe, sliding it up her torso to cup her right breast through her bustier. She moaned as he squeezed it and planted kisses down her neck. He bit the base of her neck gently and heard her breath catch, making him smirk in satisfaction. He slid his other hand down her abdomen, savouring the smoothness of her skin under his fingers as he tugged at the waistband of her smalls.

“Fuck!” she exclaimed softly, “Fenris, wait —”

He paused, feeling his lust dim slightly.

“What is it? Have I done something wrong?”

“Oh, no of course not,” she replied with a chuckle, “It’s just that I don’t think the entrance hall is the ideal place to have sex unless...you like the thrill of getting caught.”

“No, I do not.”

“Are you sure?” she asked him with a mischievous glint in her eye, “I mean it’s not a problem if you do, whatever bakes your biscuit and all — _ah!_ ”

She gasped as he slid his hand into her smalls, brushing a finger against her clit. She writhed deliciously against him as he began to draw circles around the little bundle of nerves. He felt his cock bulge painfully in his breeches as he realised how wet she already was for him.

“Maker’s balls!” she whispered breathlessly, “Fuck, Fenris, not here.”

He withdrew his hand, causing her to whimper. She had a point. As much as he was enjoying making her squirm and hearing her moan for him, he didn’t like the idea of Bodahn or Sandal catching them in flagrante. She took a step back and his body cried out for her warmth. 

“Come with me,” she said, giving him a chaste kiss on the lips and taking his hand.

Fenris followed her silently as they made their way up the stairs. A strange feeling of dread began to creep through his body with every step they took towards the bedroom and he didn’t understand why. He had expected to feel nervous; for all he knew all this may well be the first time he had lain with a woman, though his body seemed to know exactly what to do, as though it was following directions his mind had forgotten. But this feeling — it was different, it was like a toxin being released into his body, slowly poisoning the closer he got to making his fantasy a reality.

By the time they had reached Hawke’s bedroom, Fenris was a jangling mess. He stood, frozen to the spot like a frightened animal as she closed the door behind them. Now they were ensconced in the privacy of her bedroom. He took a few deep breaths, trying to dismiss the feeling.

“Is something wrong?” Hawke asked, her voice gentle.

Fenris rubbed the back of his neck as his cheeks heated up. 

“No, I just —” he stumbled, trying to find the words, “It’s just that I am not accustomed —”

He was straying into dangerous territory; approaching something he did not want to discuss right now. Not here. Not with her. He sighed, pinching the top of his nose. Focus, just focus.

“Fenris, It’s all right,” she told him, taking a step towards him, “This must feel new to you. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want. We can just talk.”

He felt a warm rush of affection run through his body, soothing his nerves a little. He looked at her and smiled. Her expression was open and trusting, she wouldn’t hurt him. She was different. She was Hawke — everything he wanted. 

“I don’t want to talk,” he told her, cradling her face in his hand, “I just want you.”

He kissed her again, nipping her bottom lip as his lust fired up inside him again. She gasped as he slid over her shoulders, letting it land at her feet. He snaked his hands up her sides and his fingers deftly unlaced her bustier. He discarded it before nipping the tendon at the base of her neck, breathing in the scent of her jasmine soap as he palmed her breasts and stroked her rosy nipples with his thumbs.

He heard her utter a breathy curse as her fingers fumbled with the straps of his breastplate and stopped her hands with his own. Their gazes locked for a moment as she drew them away, looking up at him with expectant eyes. He felt the quiet feeling of dread course its way through his body again as he removed his breastplate, placing it carefully on the floor. He took a deep breath as he pulled off his tunic, trying to ignore the way his hands were shaking. Why did they have to do that now? 

Fenris kept his gaze fixed on the ground as he took off his breeches and his underpants and kicked them to one side. He was used to people staring at his markings, some with fear and others with disgust. But somehow this was different, Hawke was seeing past his scars to the man beneath them and it made him feel more vulnerable than ever.

“Fenris, its OK,” she whispered, reaching out to take his hands, “I won’t hurt you.”

He blinked and met her gaze, seeing the quiet conviction in her eyes. He was at a loss of what to say. He was used to people staring at him, some with fear and disgust, others with a morbid curiosity. But Hawke was different, her gaze was accepting.

“How many times do I have to tell you?” she told him with a smile, “You are more than your scars.”

He kissed her then, hungry and impatient. Despite his misgivings, despite all the hours he’d wasted agonizing over her, this was what he needed. She was everything he wanted and he had been waiting for so long. She was his constant, she filled up his empty, desolate life with laughter and most dangerous of all, hope. She was the reason he had stayed in Kirkwall for so long, she was the reason he felt like he could have a future.

And that was terrifying.

Fenris shoved those thoughts aside as he pushed Hawke backwards onto the bed. He paused, gazing at her body, admiring the soft curves that he had the privilege to explore and the beautiful pink flush that was blooming across her skin. He drank in the sight before him, from the constellation of freckles on her right shoulder, to the stark contrast of her auburn hair against the white bedsheets. This was...she was more than he could have possibly dreamed.

He crawled onto the bed and covered her with his body. He planted slow kisses down her neck, before turning his attention to Hawke’s breasts, sucking and licking her nipples and enjoying the way her body arched into his. His fingers mapped the scars that adorned her skin as they slid down her abdomen, edging closer to the apex of her thighs. He flinched as she reached for him, her gentle fingers gripping his cock firmly.

“What is it?” she asked him, eyes wide, “Did I —”

“No,” he said, all to quickly, “You do not have to do that, Aurelie.”

She blinked and looked at him with a searching expression, as though she knew there was something he wasn’t telling her. 

“Fenris, I want to,” she told him, “Reciprocation is part of the fun, don’t you think? Sex is a conversation, not a lecture and all that.”

He gave her a flat look, the way she could bring levity to any given situation frustrated and amused him. She sighed and brushed his white hair out of his eyes with her free hand.

“Please, just give me this,” she whispered, her blue eyes were a shade darker than normal.

His back stiffened, he wasn’t used to affection. Usually, when people touched him it was with the intent to hurt him. The thought that someone would want to do otherwise was alien to him. But this was Hawke. The person who he wanted, who he would give his life for. He would give her anything if she asked him to.

“As you wish,” he murmured before kissing her.

Fenris’ breathing deepened as Hawke began to pump her hand up and down his cock. His body yielding to her ministrations as he thrusted himself into her hand. The fire that was burning in the pit of his belly flared. The feeling of her cool soft fingers encircling his shaft and the way she varied the pace of her strokes was exquisite. 

“You’ll be the death of me, Hawke,” he whispered in her ear as his fingers wandered idly down to the wetness between her thighs. 

She mewled in response as he stroked her labia and teased her clit with his thumb. He gently pushed a finger into her pussy, she let out a soft hiss. 

“Kiss me, Fenris,” she gasped as her fingernails bit into his shoulder blades.

Fenris complied and kissed her forcefully, nipping her bottom lip. He began to pump her pussy harder, causing her to moan and grind her hips into his hand. He felt a smug sense of satisfaction as he watched her coming undone. It was him, he was doing this to her, making her body writhe against his. It was him. She was an utter wanton mess because of him. One hand was scrabbling at the bed sheet, the other tangled in his hair, moaning softly in his ear.

_A gentle hand ruffling his hair; looking up to see a dark haired woman with his eyes smiling maternally at him. The small sense of pride as he lifted an axe that was almost as big as he was and began chopping wood; a tall shadowy figure standing in the library window, watching them, watching him…_

Fenris paused. A fragment of his former life? Why now? He shook the memory away, trying to ignore the disquiet that was starting to grow like mold in the back of his mind. 

“Fenris?” Hawke’s voice brought him back to the present.

“Yes, Hawke?”

“Are you OK? I mean you just sort of spaced out — _oh fuck!_ ”

He returned to his ministrations, pumping his fingers in and out of Hawke’s pussy even faster. His thumb was rubbing her clit in furious circles as he felt her arousal drip onto his hand. Hawke gripped his bicep, her knuckles whitening as her fingernails bit into his skin.

“Fenris, please, let me fuck you.”

Hawke whimpered as he removed his fingers, his hand smoothing her thigh as she wrapped her legs around his waist. He looked at her for a few moments, wondering what he had done to deserve the woman lying in his arms. He was disgusting, he was a monster and yet she wanted him. _Him_ of all people.

“Hawke — Aurelie, I —”

Hawke stopped his mouth with a kiss and once again, he found that his body yielded to her. She let out a soft moan as he entered her. Venhedis, it felt so good. Why had he spent so long agonising over her? He could have spent that time here with Hawke, doing this. It was so simple.

_The crash of china, grabbing a red haired little elven girl’s hand and running down the corridor. Hiding in the wardrobe whilst their mother talks to Danarius. Trying to ignore the screams that pierce the night air, trying to ignore the cuts and bruises on his mother’s arms._

No, focus. Why was this happening now? He felt his lyrium markings thrum with energy, covering him in a thousand tiny pinpricks. He increased the pace of his thrusts, trying to focus on the tightness of her walls around his cock, the soft moan that elicited from Hawke’s lips. She bucked her hips into him, biting the crook of his neck. It was...this was everything, more than a sordid little tryst. This was more than he could ever dreamed of.

_Dressing hurriedly after an adolescent fumble in the scullery before anyone could catch them. The unknown servant girl kissing him before running off to answer someone calling for her in the next room._

There was...there had been someone? Someone before? The flashes of memory were becoming quicker now. Returning to him and playing out in his mind like an Orlesian stage play and slipping from his grasp before dissolving into nothingness. No, now was not the time for this. He needed to focus, he needed to be in the present. That was all that mattered…

_Saying goodbye to his mother and sister, tears streaming down their faces. Danariaus’ grip on his shoulder tightening as he led him away. Glancing back to see them one last time, wiping away a tear running down his cheek. Don’t cry, don’t cry. Don’t show emotion. Don’t be weak…_

“Fenris?” Hawke’s voice permeated through the flashes of his past, “Are you all right?

Fenris cradled the back of her head in his hand and kissed her, his lips crashing against hers. She whimpered, her fingernails digging into the back of his neck as he fucked her hard; determined to chase away these flashes of memory with the pure sensation of her body. Her eyes were closed as she undulated beneath him. Her walls were tightening as she was close to her climax. He focused on the sight of her moaning and crying out as her orgasm stormed her body, hoping it would hold back the dread that had once again infected his mind. 

He pumped into her hard, bright lights exploding behind his eyelids as he came. He rested his forehead against hers, his breath jagged. Euphoria swept over his body for a few brief moments before dissolving into the blackness of quiet despair. Hawke reached up and brushed his hair out of his face.

“We should definitely do that again,” she said, “Not right now, obviously. Unless..”

Fenris forced a chuckle as he rolled off her and onto his back.

“Hawke, you are insatiable.”

“Only for you,” she smiled as she cuddled up to him, “I’m afraid you’re stuck with me now.”

“And I wasn’t before?”

Hawke hit him playfully on the arm. 

“Bastard, you love it,” she replied, “Besides, you couldn’t get rid of me if you tried. I’m like herpes, I keep coming back.” 

“That explains so much,” he deadpanned, kissing her on the forehead.

They lay together in silence. Fenris frowned as he idly stroked Hawke’s hair, staring up at the canopy of her bed. He should be happy. He was lying in bed with Hawke in his arms. He had gotten everything he had ever wanted, everything he had waited so long for… but all he felt was an overwhelming sense of dysphoria. He shifted uncomfortably, trying to ignore his aching markings.

“Is everything okay?” Hawke asked, gazing up at him in concern, “Is it your markings?”

“Yes, no...I’m fine,” He replied, pinching the top of his nose. How could he explain when he still didn’t understand it all himself? He sat up on the bed. “It’s just...complicated.”

He could feel her watching him as he slid off the bed and began to get dressed. The hairs on the back of his neck standing to attention as he pulled his tunic over his head.

“Complicated?” she asked, her voice sounding oddly cheery, “Am I — was it that bad?”

Fenris rubbed the back of his neck and turned to face her. He had never seen her look so vulnerable, so small. A far cry from the confident, wise-cracking woman he knew. He heaved his shoulders.

“No, it’s not that,” he sighed, watching as she pulled on her robe, “It was more that I could have wished for.”

“Well, that’s lucky because I fully intend on doing that with you again,” Hawke told him, forcing a smile, “Like I said, I’m like herpes. What is it then?”

Fenris took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair. Concern and fear was starting to show through Hawke’s cheery facade. It was difficult. Why did this have to be so complicated? 

“I had flashes,” he told her, “Memories of my life before — of my past.”

Hawke stood up from the bed and took a step towards him.

“But that’s good, isn’t it?” she asked him, the sympathy in her eyes was unbearable, “I mean, you’ve always wanted to know about your past.”

“Hawke, you don’t understand,” he told her, shaking his head to try and clear his muddy thoughts, “I’ve never remembered anything before. It all came back in a rush — faces, names — and then I lost it all.”

Hawke touched his arm with her hand and Fenris flinched from it. Her face dropped and it hurt him to see it. They stared at each other for a few seconds. The silence between them was a crushing weight on his shoulders. 

Shit.

“It’s all too much, too fast and I can’t — I cannot do this,” he said, the words stung his mouth like acid, “I’m sorry.”

Hawke deflated and hunched in on herself. Fenris’ stomach dropped. He had done it again. He had hurt her again and he hated himself. He had lost her, lost everything he wanted. Fuck.

“Wait, Fenris, stay,” she begged, her eyes full of hope and desperation, “We can talk about this. Maybe — maybe, I could help.”

And that was the problem. Hawke was always helping someone, always saving people from themselves. He didn’t want her to see his weakness. He didn’t want her to treat him as another act of charity. He wanted...he wanted to be with her, to stand beside her as an equal. Not as some charity case she took pity on.

“I don’t want to burden you,” he sighed, rubbing his forehead with his hand, “Hawke, I don’t —”

“—You wouldn’t be. Fenris, I’m actively offering to help you,” she replied, hugging her arms to her chest, “Look, I care about you, more than — you don’t have to be alone in this.”

She gave him a pleading look and Fenris felt as though someone had punched him in the gut. He was such a fool. What did he think he was doing? He had always known that sleeping with Hawke would mean something more than just sex; that it would be more than just a casual fling. But he did not have knowledge of his past. How could he be with her if he didn’t know who he was? He needed answers, he needed to know his own history, no matter how awful it was. But more than that, he needed to be sure that Hawke wouldn’t be disgusted by the person he used to be. 

Kaffas, this was such a fucked up mess.

“I’m sorry Hawke, I thought I could do this, but I was mistaken,” he told her, pinching the top of his nose, “I just wanted to be happy, but this is too soon. I’m so sorry.”

Hawke gazed at the floor for a few moments, her face concealed by a curtain of auburn hair. 

“It’s okay,” she sniffled, before meeting his gaze, “I understand.”

A very pregnant pause passed between them. 

“I-I should go,” he murmured.

Fenris turned to leave, but Hawke grabbed his arm. 

“Wait!” she said, her voice sounding strained, “Fenris, I want you to promise — promise me that you won’t run off to Tevinter alone.”

“Hawke—”

“See, I know you’re thinking about it, especially since Hadriana mentioned your sister,” Hawke continued, releasing his arm, “Honestly, I wouldn’t blame you. But I don’t want you to leave Kirkwall and get yourself killed. I want — I want you to promise me that we’re still friends.”

Fenris stared at her dumbfounded. How could she react like this? A small desperate part of him had hoped that they would at least be friends. But he knew things would be different between them. Either way, he had assumed that leaving would be better for her. He wouldn’t be there to remind her of the pain he had already caused her, it would be like continually pressing a bruise.

“Uh, I promise.”

Hawke gave him a sad little smile. She picked up a scrap of red fabric that she used to tie her hair back and grabbed his forearm.

“Good,” she said as she tied the fabric around his wrist, “Now, I want you to have this to remind you that you have friends here who care about you — that I am here for you, no matter what.”

Fenris swallowed and brushed Hawke’s cheek with his hand. He could see her eyes swimming with tears, that she was trying her best to hold them back. His heart ached. He hadn’t meant to — why was he always hurting her? No, this was best for the both of them. Best for him to walk away now so that she could be happy with someone else before he could hurt her anymore.

“I have to go,” he whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

He brushed her cheek with a finger and Hawke closed her eyes, savouring the contact. He let out a deep breath before kissing her on the forehead. His shoulders heaved as he turned away, the sound of Hawke sobbing followed him as he walked out of her mansion, breaking the one thing he had held so dear forever.

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the first time I've written a story from Fenris' point of view, which made it an interesting challenge to write, but I felt that I had to write this particular scene from his POV.
> 
> Anyway, thank you for reading. Please feel free to comment and leave constructive feedback.


End file.
